


love me in whatever way (i can't give up)

by ceeiswriting



Category: Tenet (2020)
Genre: BUT I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS, I do not understand the logistics of the movie, M/M, major character death refers to canon deaths, this is very introspective on Neil's part, vignettes of their time together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 07:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceeiswriting/pseuds/ceeiswriting
Summary: And so, without knowing it, he chooses loss, the one sure song.Neil watches, hidden in the shade, as Volkov places the trap. It’s a plain one, triggered by a tripwire, and easy to overlook amid the battle. Despite its simplicity, the trap is still incredibly effective, capable of destroying the exit of the tunnels beneath Stalks-12 and condemning whoever’s still inside to a realm of shadows. He can’t let it happen.There, hidden in the shade, Neil looks back and seals his fate.-Almost 3k words, detailing some of the moments Neil and The Protagonist spent together.
Relationships: Neil & The Protagonist (Tenet), Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	love me in whatever way (i can't give up)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you for clicking on this little piece of fic that's very close to my heart. I have been sitting on this for months, actually, before I got the guts to post this. TENET took my heart and ripped it apart and I wrote this as a means to get all my feelings about the movie out. 
> 
> I want to add that I literally only understand half of the logistics in the movie. I have no idea how the time works in it. but this is meant as a piece of introspective writing which mainly revolves around The Protagonist's (who I named John, after John David Washington) and Neil's relationship. this was inspired by the myth of eurydice and orpheus.
> 
> also I want to add that I am not a native speaker, so I apologize for eventually making mistakes.
> 
> the title is from "love me in whatever way" by james blake (so good!! link below)
> 
> more notes at the end.

_And so, without knowing it, he chooses loss, the one sure song._

Neil watches, hidden in the shade, as Volkov places the trap. It’s a plain one, triggered by a tripwire, and easy to overlook amid the battle. Despite its simplicity, the trap is still incredibly effective, capable of destroying the exit of the tunnels beneath Stalks-12 and condemning whoever’s still inside to a realm of shadows. He can’t let it happen.

There, hidden in the shade, Neil looks back and seals his fate.

* * *

He fails, the first time.

Even though short-circuiting the jeep is child’s play, especially after considering that it’s not Neil’s first time doing it. He’s had some time to practice various _slightly_ dubious skills, like relocating certain things ( _not_ stealing them, mind you), even before John appeared in his life, completely out of the blue, and offered him the job. Neil’s always had a knack for chaotic, erratic behavior, much to John’s dismay. He flourishes in it, in the destruction and the beauty of chaos, like a flower that prospers in the rich, deep soil. When things don’t go to plan, is where the fun typically begins.

Though, this time, Neil desperately wishes they would.

The tachometer is informing him that the car’s at its limit, that it can’t go faster but Neil chases after them, chases after Ives and John, nonetheless, as they’re bolting across the battlefield, dodging explosions left and right. John’s always been a runner, faster than Neil will ever be, now even faster than any speed the car could reach in this short time. When the realization hits Neil that they can’t hear him, nor the horn of the car, it does so mingled with the feeling of utter terror, icy fear gripping him tight, as he holds on to the steering wheel. He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, desperate now, his heart racing like he’s been the one running, but his words are being drowned out by the helmets, by the sounds of the buildings, collapsing in on themselves. They’re being drowned out by gunfire, by the screeching of the tires as they spin on the sandy ground. They’re being drowned out by this deafening cacophony of destruction. The darkness swallows Ives and John, it swallows them in less than a second, and Neil is left to watch.

He can hear the clock ticking.

* * *

“What’s that, huh?” Neil asks, reaching over to snatch whatever John is holding in his hand. They’re in Prague, in a stuffy hotel room that could be considered a glorified shoebox that smells faintly like the mothballs Neil’s grandmother used to keep in her closet. Beside him, John’s bathed in the light of the morning sun, golden, and warm to the touch. He reacts when Neil begins his flanking maneuver, as if he’s already been expecting it, and balls his hand into a fist, effectively locking whatever it is that he’s holding, inside. 

“Nothing.” 

Two syllables, spoken with conviction. 

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Doesn’t _have_ to look like anything to you,” John says, amused. He doesn’t move when Neil grabs the edge of his pillow and pulls, ever so steadfast. It’s like an impossible force meeting an immovable object.

“Touché,” Neil comments, grinning. He likes it, this verbal sparring. It might even be his new favorite kind of foreplay. Working with John has been quite good so far. Especially since working together began leading to sleeping together after the job is done. You’ve got to get rid of that excess energy, somehow. And Neil’s always been bad at separating church and state. Working for Tenet and working with John has been no different. It feels like they’ve simply slipped into this rhythm.

John’s watch lies forgotten on the nightstand, its surface reflecting the light that’s coming in from the outside. It looks like they have about half an hour left before they’re supposed to meet with Ives to coordinate the organization's next efforts. But Neil’s not all too focused on the time right now. Something else catches his attention. There's a scratch on the watch, barely noticeable, probably originating from one of the many fights John always seems to find himself in. He is like that, hot-blooded and brazen, already riding into battle before he’s even declared the war. 

The touch of John’s hand on Neil’s back interrupts his train of thought. It’s as warm as the sun, a little rough, calloused from the pull up’s John keeps doing at the most random places. It’s one of Neil’s favorite things to tease him with.

Neil turns his head, his breath hitching, and sees, next to him, John’s gaze is following the curve of his back, from his iliac crest to his shoulders before the warm, constant weight of his hand is coming to rest right between Neil’s shoulder blades. Neil thinks he can understand it now, how Icarus got too close to the sun and found his doom. Neil, too, wants to stay close to John, enveloped in his warmth, even if it could burn him, in the end. Going up in flames suddenly seems like a glorious way to die.

It’s almost like John can sense what Neil is thinking about. His gaze skips from his shoulders to his face and there’s this little crease between his eyebrows that Neil noticed, only appears when he’s worried about something. “You’re quiet all of a sudden,” John states, softly, while he pushes a strand of hair out of Neil’s face. It’s a tender gesture, one full of trust, and Neil doesn’t even put up the effort that it would take to refuse to lean into it. 

“I was just thinking,” he admits, swallows once before he looks up again.

“About?”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t think about _nothing_ ,” John chuckles, voice filled with the same, familiar amusement from only a couple of moments ago. The expression of worry on his face fades quickly, as does that little crease between his eyebrows, eclipsed by a smile that reaches his eyes. Neil thinks his heart might give out at the sight of it. 

What a wonderful way to go.

“Oh, I _can_ . As a matter of fact, I am thinking of nothing _right now_ ,” Neil shoots back, doubling down on his previous statement, purposely ignoring the absurdity of it. 

“Really?” 

“Mhm.”

“Still nothing?” John’s lips meet the sensitive skin on the back of Neil’s neck, next to the hickey he must have left there approximately seven hours ago. It elicits a small shiver from Neil and he swallows, trying to keep his brain from short-circuiting. 

“ _Absolutely_ nothing,” Neil’s words come out slowly, drawn-out, and gooey like the honey he always takes in his tea. He can feel John’s chuckle, a warm exhale of breath on his skin, and closes his eyes. 

“How strange,” John says, softly. A beat passes between them, silence stretching on before Neil decides to speak up again. “Mhm. _Truly_ strange.” Next to him, John inhales, slow and deep, and shifts on the bed. “Open your eyes. I want to show you something.”

Neil chuckles. “Oh, _now_ you wanna show me _something_? When I’m busy thinking about nothing?”

“Exactly.”

“Alright,” the bed creaks when Neil rolls on his back. He turns his head to the side and watches as, next to him, John props himself up on his elbow, strains of muscles shifting under his skin. Neil stares at him, watches him without any shame. There’s a scar on his elbow, one last remnant of the time that he broke his elbow growing up. “Hit me with it,” Neil encourages John.

The way he’s looking at him is threatening to make Neil dizzy, with all of this want and warmth and affection. Neil feels strangely relieved when John moves again, giving him something else to focus on but the way his chest is about to burst open with adoration for the man next to him, completely unprecedented. His hand comes to rest on the mattress, palm up, and Neil finally gets to see what John has been holding on to for the last couple of minutes. It’s a pendant, small in diameter, and bound with a red string. 

“Is this for me?” Neil asks, brows raised. John nods. “Remember what you told me about circles?”

“They represent a notion of totality, yes,” Neil mumbles, enraptured, and distracted by John as he places the pendant inside of Neil’s hand. It’s of barely any weight.

“I was thinking more of the aspect of timelessness or the infinite. It fits better, in my opinion,” John says and smiles. He scrubs his hand over his face, covering his eyes, hit by a sudden wave of self-consciousness. 

“What’s with the red string?” Neil asks. He wraps his hand around John’s wrist and tugs on it, trying to tear it away from his face. “Come on, don’t hide from me. Tell me the whole story.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Can’t be as stupid as me thinking about nothing,” Neil suggests, softly. He wraps the string around his ring finger and lets the pendant dangling from his hand. “C’mon, love.”

In the end, it’s the nickname that seems to make John yield. Chuckling, he quickly takes Neil’s hand and raises it to his lips. He presses a kiss on his wrist. It’s a tender touch, one that Neil can feel everywhere, tingling all over his body, and he smiles, meeting John’s gaze. Ultimately, when John finally replies, his voice is merely a whisper.

“It’s the red string of fate.”

* * *

It stays with Neil - the pendant _and_ its meaning.

Bound to his backpack, an ever-present reminder of what’s already happened and what’s still to come. Their story is circular, his and John’s, woven together with the red string that’s wrapped around the pendant. They’re in Kyiv, now, and Neil does spot John with ease, amidst the gunshots and smoke and chaos, crouched between two rows of seats, distracted by the hole an inverted bullet left in the concrete. He cannot make sense of the fact that it’s putting itself back together, not yet. It’s still going to take a bit of time until he’ll be able to - until the confusion clears and makes way for a sense of determination that holds the potential to usher in a new age of warfare.

Until then, it’s on Neil to protect him. He takes a deep breath, face obstructed by the riot gear helmet, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

John’s survival is vital for the funding of the organization, for Tenet, but to Neil, it’s also the most important objective he’s ever had. He catches the inverted bullet with ease - after all, he’s had years of training - and makes a run for it. They will meet later, in Mumbai, until then, Neil has to stay away. He can’t look back.

Behind him, John - the Protagonist - spots the pendant, dangling from his Neil’s backpack, still absolutely unaware of the gravity the Pendant holds to both of them.

* * *

In Tallinn, curiosity gets the better of Neil. 

“You’re not going to look after her. Not even from afar?” he asks and turns to John. The gun he’d begun to clean, rests in his lap. Next to him, John shakes his head. “Not even from afar.”

Neil can tell that he’s lying. John will never stop caring about Kat, not as long as he feels this sense of duty about her and Max. It’s in his nature, even if he denies it, even if he refuses to admit that he cares, so pure and altruistically. Neil can see through him, by now. 

It’s strange, Neil thinks, later, when they’re laying in bed, tired and their muscles sore from a long day of training, how someone slowly unravels, the longer you know them. The good and the bad - it accumulates into something more, something heavy, anecdotes and patterns only two people can understand. It adds a certain gravity to a relationship when you begin to love someone, completely, not despite their flaws but _because_ of them, and somehow, that gravity only intensifies the fear of losing them.

They’re two sides of the same coin, after all - love and loss, like life and death. Maybe love is the most real when it’s accompanied by a shade of grief and maybe, even the finality of death can include a shade of love, depending on the circumstances. 

But when John kisses him that night, soft and gentle and in a clear attempt to shut Neil up from talking too much, Neil allows himself that moment of reprieve. He allows himself to wallow in this love and bliss, no thought of grief or loss left on his mind as the thunder booms outside.

Neil wears the pendant around his neck that night - hidden underneath his shirt and close to his heart. He’s been getting aware of it, slowly and then all at once, aware of this thought. The one that is intertwined with a complete sense of clarity.

Now Neil knows, he knows that he would die for John.

* * *

_He wakes in time to see him turn away and enter the dark tunnel of trees, humming a tune he’ll soon put words to._

* * *

In the tunnels beneath Stalks-12, Neil becomes Orpheus, descending to hell to save his lover from eternal doom. He finally understands what they’re about, those greek tragedies, how the hero would rather die than see his loved one be condemned to a life of darkness. He cannot live without John, that’s Neil’s honest truth. 

Volkov’s gun is already drawn, his finger on the trigger, one squeeze away from utter destruction. Time slows and all the noise drowns out until it’s down to the sound of Neil’s breathing, way too shallow and way too fast, and the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears. He reacts, stepping between John and the gun and -

* * *

_Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed._

* * *

The second time, Neil succeeds. The unbelievable thing is, he’s even around to see it.

“For me, this is the end of a beautiful friendship,” the words themselves are bittersweet, drenched in tragedy and love and agony, and almost too much to voice, at all. There's a dull ache in his chest, different from one that was brought on by the gunshot, and it’s slowly spreading through Neil’s chest like thin tendrils. He can spot the moment when the realization hits John, eyes widening in terror, as he meets Neil’s gaze. And Neil - he forces himself to take it, this sudden pain, the immense horror of this loss, and to carry it. Ives has already left, giving them the space they need to grieve, even if they only have a couple of moments.

_Now, let me go._

John always wanted to know the truth. He wouldn’t stop questioning Neil about it, but now, standing in the crater right where Stalks-12 used to be, he must be regretting it. He’ll understand it, eventually, how much Neil’s sacrifice means, how much weight it holds for both of their futures. Until then, he will have to learn to live with the pain, with the knowledge of this loss, somehow. He has to let Neil go.

Because this time, it’s Neil who has to return to the abysmal darkness. He sealed his fate like Orpheus did when he turned around to make sure that Eurydice was behind him and fell for Hades’ trap. He, too, looked back. In the end, Neil didn’t lose his love, he lost his life. His choice makes it clear what holds more value to him.

He finally turns away from John, despite the tightness in his throat and the longing and the tears, and thinks about what he’d do if he had the opportunity to change something about this fate. There could’ve been other outcomes, five or five thousand, the number doesn’t matter because, in the end, Neil wouldn’t do it.

Time’s running out, it’s as simple as that. Neil wouldn’t want to change anything about how their story goes. Instead, he would do it all over again, piece by piece and fragment by fragment. This is it for him, the final and inevitable outcome, the one he can’t outrun.

“You’re gonna love it. You’ll see.”

The silence that follows Neil’s statement is almost deafening. There’s salt on his tongue, sharp and tangy, and it tastes like the silent tears on John’s cheeks.

* * *

_You will be his first love and his last, and to you alone he will devote his life._

* * *

When they meet in Mumbai, it starts anew, as the red string of fate begins to untangle between them.

Neil is convinced that his body language must be giving him away, it’s way too open, too intrigued, but for whatever reason, John remains focused on trying to convince Neil to help him with his next mission. He is a sight to behold, strong and determined and eager like Neil knows him like he’s known him for years, and it’s such a cruel thing that he can’t tell him their whole story, that he can’t touch him like he’s aching to, then and there.

_What’s happened, happened_. 

Those are Neil’s words and they are the ultimate truth, there’s no denying them. Over time, it’s all going to unravel. Until then, Neil will be fine as long as he can only keep looking at John.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> whew, so I hope you enjoyed reading this. thank you for checking it out.  
> -cee
> 
> quotes used:
> 
> [Orpheus and Eurydice by Gregory Orr> ](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=38800)  
> [Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out by... by Richard Siken> ](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48158/litany-in-which-certain-things-are-crossed-out)  
> [ Metamorphoses by OVID>](https://www.loebclassics.com/view/ovid-metamorphoses/1916/pb_LCL043.349.xml?amp;rskey=xAejVV&readMode=recto)
> 
> [ Love Me In Whatever Way by James Blake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUIVMIMEaQg)


End file.
